What You Can't Have
by chibi angelle
Summary: She was Griffindor and he was Slytherin it would be strictly verboten, forbidden. But then again, that was human nature wasn't it? Always wanting what you can't have. [DMHG oneshot]


**What You Can't Have**

**By Chibi Angelle**

They were in the dungeons, as usual (unfortunately), Griffindor had double potions with Slytherin. The seventh-years were currently scribbling down notes, well, most of them anyway. Snape was standing front and center, droning on and on about the properties of powdered tarantula hair.

She discreetly stretched and barely contained a yawn; Reciting the various properties backwards in my sleep would be easier than enduring this tedious lecture, she thought to herself. She allowed her perfect posture to slump a little and propped her check on her fist. Luckily, Harry and Ron had convinced her to sit in the middle row instead of the front; otherwise she would've been caught by Snape ages ago for her obvious displays of boredom. She snuck a glance at The One She Adored Most. She'd never shown it, having buried such outward shows of interest under years of oscillating malicious taunts and severe threats, but there it was. His platinum blonde hair was seemingly luminescent in the dim torchlight and his hardened Quidditch muscles were obvious even through the loose robe he wore. He was intent on his notes and was furiously scribbling away. Suddenly her turned to look at her and she snapped her eyes a little more to the left, so that her gave was resting on best friend. Ron was already staring at her, though, so her soft doe eyes connected with his hazels. She raised her eyebrows in question and he answered by gesturing wildly and opening and closing his wide mouth. Gently, she put her hand on his arm to quiet him before the potions-master turned his baleful gaze on them. Too late, her gangly friend's flailing limbs knocked over his brass scales and sent them toppling to the floor. Silently, she flicked her wand at them, using wordless magic to save her friend from detention. They stopped inches from the cobblestone ground and replaced themselves on the desk in front of him. He smiled in gratitude and returned to doodling on his parchment. Satisfied, she went back to staring at a certain Slytherin, only to meet the gaze of his intense blue-gray eyes. Their gazes locked for a moment, and her turned away to talk to the Slytherin Slut who was sitting next to him, tugging on his sleeve like she had something important to say. Hermione straightened up as she heard the professor mention Purple Seal-Monkeys. She hadn't gotten to that chapter yet, as it was the 13th chapter of the text book. She was a bit distracted to say the least. She was juggling Head-Girl duties, staying on top of her grades, studying for NEWTS (which was in eight months, how could she have gotten so far behind?), and trying no to be too obvious about her sudden infatuation over the Slytherin Prince. No matter, it was only the second month of school, she was sure she could catch up.

Draco was trying to concentrate in what the greasy professor was saying. Pansy was making this a tad bit difficult by feeling him up every ten seconds. He took down notes so quickly that his hand was starting to cramp but he didn't care; he had to beat Granger this year. It was his last year, last chance to prove that hot, sexy people could be as smart as any hot, sexy muggleborn. Not that he'd ever admit to anyone that this particular muggleborn was quite attractive. With this thought in mind her turned to look at her. She was smiling at that _idiot Weasel-head. _He hated to admit it, but at that moment he was violently jealous of said idiot. Hermione was smiling at him, her face radiant and pure. He had knocked over his scales (Draco scoffed at their condition; scuffed and tarnished brass filigree and still-visible places where great globs of gloop remained as a souvenir from Longbottom's last potions mishap) and Hermione smoothly returned them to the desk with a mere flick of her wand. Draco could only gape at such an effortless show of power. She would be great someday, he could tell. She must have felt the weight of his stare because with a final grin at Weasley, she turned to him. Her warm and curious gaze met his cold and guarded glare. It was unnerving, the way they locked onto each other. They were like the final pieces of a puzzle, coming together at last to finally see the actual picture. Their connection was broken by the greasy professor mentioning something extremely gay-sounding, and Pansy tugging on his sleeve. He turned away from the Griffindor Lioness to squint at the Slytherin Slut. Well, he didn't actually call her that unless he was really angry; in any case she didn't seem to mind having an extremely promiscuous reputation, probably because it was true. She had never been with him, of course, but it was common knowledge that she wanted to.

Anyways she was asking him if she looked sexier with her hair up or down, straight or curled, long or short. He responded with monosyllables, projecting his boredom with such trivial matters. She took the hint with an affronted pout and returned to her notes. He asked her in hushed tones why she was asking and she looked at him like he had just turned into an Eyrie (golden birds that have the characteristics of the Children of the Corn; mind reading, white-blue eyes and creepy voices.) "The Halloween Ball is coming up."

The Halloween Ball 

She was forced to go by Lavender and Parvati, her fellow Griffindor Year-mates and so-called friends. "You'll meet lots of boys, and besides, it might be the last ball you'll ever go to." Hermione glared at both of them. Were they implying that she was an anti-social hermit?

"That's not what we meant," Lavender cut in. "It' just that you take thing too seriously and you'll be too busy to go to balls in the future."

Later she'd complained to Ginny that she _really _didn't want to go. "Stay with me, I'm not going 'cuz I heard Malfoy's gonna be there." The redhead said offhandedly.

"Well… maybe I will go, I mean, it _is _my last year at Hogwarts." Hermione amended.

"Oh sure. _Your last year_. I'm _sooo _sure that's the reason you want to go to the ball this year." Ginny said wryly and walked off before Hermione could utter words of protest.

So here she was. All dolled up in a bit of neutral-toned make-up and Sleek-EZ hairspray. She held her head high and walked confidently down the great stone steps onto the foyer. The enormous oak doors were wide open and there were already some students dancing to pounding music made by the 'Blast-ended Nifflers', a band Dumbledore had discovered himself. They were pretty good. She was so intent on the band that she wasn't really watching where she was going. As a result, she slipped in a puddle of pumpkin juice. The floor loomed before her and she shut her eyes, bracing for impact. It never came. A pair of sturdy arms had caught her. She opened her eyes and blushed. She was in the arms of none other than Draco Malfoy himself. She relaxed, relishing the moments he held her close. She detected his cool musky aftershave. It took all of her willpower not to wrap her arms around him and feel his soft blonde tresses with her fingers, his lips with hers. She looked into his eyes and once again felt that connection. Did he?

Apparently no; he abruptly set her on her feet and walked away with Pansy. She sighed. She was Griffindor and he was Slytherin; it would be strictly verboten, forbidden. But then again, that was human nature wasn't it? Always wanting what you can't have.

He took Pansy to the dance. (He would've preferred to take a certain Griffindor, but she would probably be taking either Potter or Weasley, so he didn't dwell on it for too long.) Anyways he took Pansy because she asked first. He grinned; only Pansy would have the gall to ask instead of the other way around. They had come fashionably late as expected, Draco leaned against a table and searched the room discreetly. Well, she wasn't on the floor with Potter or Weasley, who were humiliating themselves by their ridiculous dancing attempts; waving their arms offbeat and jerking their necks spasmodonically.

"Watch it, bitch!" Pansy had slammed a girl from Hufflepuff with her shoulder, sending half the girl's pumpkin juice on the floor and the other half on her white dress. The poor girl ran back to her dorm to change. He was grinning at his dates' antics when he caught sight of her.

She was standing atop the staircase, her perfectly sandaled foot resting on the topmost stair. She was wearing a light pink floor-length gown with a magenta under dress. The bodice glittered with sequins and offset her perfect figure. The skirt of her dress was split triangularly from top to bottom, revealing the magenta material underneath. Half of her hair was held up by a studded rhinestone clip, the rest was left down in smooth ringlets. She came down, graceful as an angel. She walked in but didn't look where she was going, so she slipped in the puddle of pumpkin juice that the Hufflepuff girl had spilled. Instinctively he caught her before the ground did and held her because he wanted to. He gazed into her eyes until he remembered Pansy was there. He quickly set her down and met the shocked orbs of his date. Wordlessly, she dragged him onto the dance floor.

Three hours later…

Hermione was bored. The dance was dull, overcrowded, dull, stuffy and _dull. _She decided to take a walk by the lake.

Finally, after spending an eternity of listening to Pansy's gossip and halfhearted answer on his part, she left to bother someone else. He saw Hermione slip out the back door and followed her. He could easily spot her because her dress was almost like a beacon of fluorescent pink light, beckoning him on.

Across the lake, he could make out some students tormenting the squid by exploding underwater fireworks. Suddenly, in a fit of rage, the squid lashed out at them and they leapt back, far out of rage. But it wasn't done yet; it was still furious and rampaging. And headed straight for Hermione. She apparently hadn't noticed. Oblivious to the world and lost in her thoughts. He ran and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her out of reach a split second before the giant tentacle made a crater in the ground. The impact shuddered the earth beneath his feet and he lost balance. He rolled them to the safety of an oak tree. There, he settled himself and Hermione so they were comfortably cuddled beneath the tree. Luckily for him, she had fainted and he planned to be long gone before she awoke. But for now, he just wanted to savor this moment and tell her things he never would've if she was awake. "Hermione," he whispered. "I think I love you, you know it would be forbidden." He sighed. "Why do people always want what they can't have?"

"'Cuz they're curious." Replied a not-so-asleep Hermione. She grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him with all her heart. After a moment of shock dissipated, he pulled her closer and poured his soul into the kiss. No one would approve, but they really didn't care. They were so lost in the kiss that they didn't even notice the distinct cracking sound that marked the arrival of someone who had Apparated. Nothing else mattered. They finally got what they wanted.

**The End**


End file.
